After Apocalypse
by Hasvajhi
Summary: AU. The 4th season finale didn't go as well as you thought it did. Now, centuries later, the survivors gather together to deal with something even the Gods could not destroy. Eventual Kurtty and Xott. T for language and violence
1. Nascent Salamander

Hello there, y'all! This is A here; B won't be joining for us in this little excursion. She doesn't share my interest in Evolution. Instead, a friend of mine will be profreeding and editing.

Every saturday, another chapter will be thrown up, though it may slow down once school starts. I have a 2-chapter buffer currently, though that may change over time.

By the way, a quick explanation before we begin, to explain something any local would know about. There are three kinds of mutants in this world:

X-men: The team we all know and love. Revered as gods or saints, depending on who you ask. Why so divine, you ask? You'll see later.

Exmen: Powered mutants, like the X-men but contemporary. Considered useful or blessed by the heavens, depending again on who you ask.

Mutes: What really happened to the people Apocalypse turned into mutants. If you've ever played Fallout 3, then consider them feral ghouls who hang out above ground. If not, think of them as zombies who roam the land. They can't reproduce, however, and they're dying out.

Now that that's out of the way, please kick back, relax, and enjoy the fanfiction!

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That morning, something changed.

It started just like all the other mornings did, the overseer yelling at all of us peons to wake up and get the hell moving. But… it felt different. Weird. Good. As if I hadn't been stuck in this hellhole of a country for all my short, miserable life. Not like anywhere else was better…

But, still. Our Overseer, a man by the name of McKinley, was telling us Proles to get up and get to work. "That minin' won't be done by the Wasteland Mutes, after all! Hyaw haw haw haw haw!" I hated that laugh so much. But we went up, because we had to, and went deep into the mines, because if we didn't, we'd probably be shot.

As we slogged past posters of the heroic Exmen, fighting the evil god Apocalypse, I remember suddenly getting terrible heartburn, like there was a little fire raging in my chest. I coughed a bit, and it went away. Didn't give it much thought then. The big event was due to happen later. For then, I just filed the information away.

It was down in the mines that my life changed forever.

I happened to pass one of the regional Doctor's offices; as usual, he was getting his kicks by torturing one of his slaves. I'd grown used to that by then, but I made the mistake of looking in.

"Are you feeling comfortable, my dear?" the old man asked of the poor girl on the bed. She was strapped down, tight, as if he expected her to try to escape at any moment. She was glaring at him with deadly intent, but she hadn't been harmed. Yet.

"I said, are you comfortable?" Still no answer. Something was different about her; any normal slave would have broken apart into a blubbering mess by now. But she was defiant. A Foreigner? No. She obviously understood what he was saying. She looked like a Noble. But a Doctor would never be able to put a Noble in this situation. She was utterly unlike anyone I'd ever seen before, and I was entranced.

"I asked you a question, girl! I expect an answer!" Still, she didn't respond. I couldn't believe it! No one disobeyed a Doctor! No one! But there she lay, unresponsive. silent. or maybe: quiet, as if nothing could harm her.

Then a bell rang out and broke my focus. It was work time; I had to get back to the silver vein and extract the precious metal, or I'd be liquefied. But, for the rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about this bizarre Noble girl and how she flagrantly defied the highest authority I had ever obeyed. I could barely focus on my work.

So when then the big automatic drill malfunctioned and exploded, I was just as shocked as everyone else. McKinley was furious. So furious, he took out his welder and started to burn Proles with it. We scattered across the mine, knowing that if the Overseer caught us, he could torture us all he wanted. By some quirk of fate, the path I followed led past the offices I had passed earlier. The woman still lay strapped to the bed, looking a bit worse for wear, but otherwise unharmed. Apparently, the Doctor thought her valuable, too valuable to truly harm. I stood there, torn by indecision. More Overseers had joined into the fray, burning any helpless Proletarian they could find, and if I didn't haul ass, that helpless Prole could be me. But just within that unlocked door lay the greatest enigma I had ever encountered; a person who defied a Doctor. I Then, I made the right decision. She woke up as I was undoing the straps around her legs.

"Who are you?" She had a beautiful voice, strained as it was by distrust.

"A dead man, probably." I replied, finally finishing and moving onto the next strap. It was wrapped tightly, trapping both her hands against her body.

"_KEEP UNDOING MY STRAPS. _Are you one of those Proles I've heard about?"

"Yes, Madame Noble." _So the stories about ignorant Nobles are true_, I thought, continuing to fiddle with the hand straps, which turned out to be separate from the main waist strap.

"What? I'm no Noble! I'm not even from this dump!"

I froze. That meant she was a Foreigner! But she spoke English like a native, which contradicted everything I had been told about Foreigners. Yet, here she was, strapped to the table, defying everything the Doctors had told us, everything about the class system, Doctors above Nobles above Overseers above Proles above the hated and inhuman-looking Foreigners. I almost stopped unstrapping her then, but I found myself continuing, almost despite myself. It was as if something else was moving my hands for me; perhaps it was the strange voice she had used earlier? After a while, my hands finished unwrapping her and came back under my control. She stood up from the bed, unsteadily grasping for my hand. I gave it to her, and we began to walk towards the door.

Then it burst open.

In strode Overseer McKinley, along with several of his fellow mine managers, obviously still angry and ready to spill blood, with the mining tools they carried by their sides. Something, probably the fear, caused my heartburn to suddenly return. I stumbled backwards, dragging the girl along with me.

"So, what's a Prole like you doing on a Doctor's property, eh?" he said, slowly advancing on me with his welder drawn. His fellows followed his lead, taking out their own weapons. My heartburn was so painful I could barely think.

"Looks like he's trespassing on Doctoral property, aiding and abetting a Foreigner, _and_ flagrantly disobeying his Overseer. Those are death penalty offences, you know," said the one on the right, hefting his pick. My heartburn was rising into my throat, violent and exquisitely painful.

"Let's get 'em, boys!" McKinley gleefully shouted, turning his welder back on and charged at me.

What happened next was extraordinary, especially to a man like me, who had been taught that a Prole was incapable of such things. My "heartburn" roared out of my mouth, a lick of liquid flame that flew towards McKinley. The flame itself did little damage to anyone, but it engulfed the welding tool's gastank, causing an explosion that horribly mangled my former Overseer and his partner. As I passed out, I could see the surviving Overseer, could see the shock and horror on her face, could see her running out the door in terror.

When I came to, the girl was half-dragging me towards the door. I grunted, or did my best to; my throat was still sore. She laid me down, and helped me to stand up on my own.

"What's your name?" she demanded, once I was steady on my feet.

"Ladon… I'm a McKinley Prole."

"Ladon McKinley, then."

"Who… are you?"

"Argentina Linguiston, call me Silvertongue. I have to admit, I didn't expect to find an Exman in this dump."

"An angel? What are… you talking about?"

"An angel? What?" She cocked her head in confusion. "Oh, the X-Men. No, we aren't gods, not by a long shot. Now, come along."

Like before, I felt strangely compelled to follow her order, but I resisted.

"Why?"

"Either you come with me and join the Madison Clan, or you stay here-" she gestured towards the bodies on the floor, "and contend with more of these guys."

After a moment of consideration, I decided to accept her offer. And then I began a new life.

**CHAPTER 1 – END**

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That's it, folks. Please R&R!


	2. Silver Siren

Hello again, everyone. Thanks for taking the time to read, and all reviews are highly appreciated.

Once more, thanks to my friend who edited this chapter, it is significantly prettier than it was before.

Also, whenever Silvertongue uses italics, she's using her power.

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"_Let us pass, Overseers. Why are you impeding a pair of Nobles_?"

"But, ma'am, we have orders to…"

"_Orders to let us pass, officer._"

"Yes, of course. Please proceed directly to your homes. A band of Mutes are attacking our fair town's perimeter."

I followed Silvertongue, trying to stay out of sight. "Where exactly are we going? I'd rather not head into danger without an idea of what I'm heading into…."

"I'm smuggling you out of Northbrook, to join up with my compatriots in the Madison Clan."

"And what exactly IS this 'Madison Clan'"?

"Enough talk." She picked up her pace, and I struggled to follow her.

After a few minutes and four hypnotized guards, we began to hear the distant sounds of conflict. I could hear gunfire, which I had grown used to when I serviced machine guns along the perimeter as a child, but other, stranger sounds; regular sharp whirring, and, occasionally, a dull, booming roar.

"Good," she said. "It sounds like the Clan's arrived." She picked up her pace until she was almost running, leaving poor malnourished me panting behind her. I could hear strains of music waft over the settlement wall; I assumed it was this Madison Clan's war music. We turned a corner, and, just a few paces away from the front gate, yet another pair of guards faced us. But this time, the Overseer who had fled from us earlier was behind them.

"It's them! The freak and the Foreigner! Take them alive, so I can kill them slowly!"

The guards came rushing towards us, weapons brandished, but Silvertongue didn't seem to notice. She listened to the faint music coming from beyond the gate, and her eyes widened.

She turned to me, urgency etched into her features. _"Get on the ground, cover your ears, and open your mouth! Quickly!" _I obeyed, and she followed me to the ground.

Several minutes later, my vision swam as I opened my eyes. The guards and the Overseer lie scattered around the road, eyes glazed over and blood seeping out of their ears. Northbrook's front gate, constructed with a state-of-the-art silicon compound, had shattered like so much glass. The world was as silent as the grave, except for a dull buzzing noise to my right.

I slowly turned my head, and faintly saw Silvertongue shouting. After a moment, I managed to make out her voice from the oppressive silence.

"Get up! Now! We have to go before the snipers wake back up!" I could just barely hear her.

I rose to my feet unsteadily, and was half-walked, half-dragged out of the gate, into the wasteland beyond the settlement. I had never been outside of the gates before; all I knew of the Wastelands were stories of cannibal bandits and vicious mutant raiders. The shock of realizing where I was helped me snap out of my stupor.

"How far away is this 'Clan' of yours, Silvertongue?"

"Right there, just over the hilltop!" She said, and gestured towards a group of figures that had suddenly emerged from the wasteland. They were close…

But I head a loud click from behind me, and knew they weren't close enough.

I recognized that sound. I had seen the weapon itself in operation, shooting at roving Mutes that came too close to the perimeter. I knew that it was aiming between us, because the resulting explosion would be enough to take both of us out. I also knew that its lateral movement was slow, and that both of us had one chance.

I grabbed Silvertongue and hurled her to the side, as hard as I could. She just barely made it out of the blast radius.

I did not.

My right shoulder exploded, and the world faded into blackness.

**CHAPTER 2 - END**

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Thanks for reading! Please Read and Review!


	3. Ancient Mechanist

School has begun, and my free time has been drastically reduced. From no one, updates will be highly irregular.

Once again, my lovely editor deserves much praise for correcting the manuscript, and for reminding me when I forgot to upload the right document.

Enjoy, and R&R!

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"Is he fully awake yet?" The voice was low and gravelly.

My world was pain. I grunted.

"Yes, he is." This voice was harsh and mechanical, but it had an underlying melody that was pleasing to the ear. I could also faintly hear a loud chugging, like the roar of a massive engine, and, beyond that, the roaring of the desert wind.

"We'd best call a clan council, then. Silvertongue might want to see her savior, now that he's recovered."

I slowly opened my eyes, sitting up and glancing around the room. It was hardly more than a metal box, with a few computers shoved into a corner and a small cot, where I sat. Two people stood near the computers: a tall black man wearing a metallic glove, and a strange silver man. They both were staring at me.

"I take it you're the Madison Clan?"

"A part of it, yeah," said the silver man, walking over to my bedside. The other man, the dark-skinned one, left the room, presumably to get Silvertongue.

"How's your arm, kid?" he continued.

"Painful. Exquisitely so."

"Good. Now turn your head to the left."

"How is being in pain a good thi-OW! What the heck?

I started to look over at my arm, but the man turned my head back.

"I said; turn your head to the left, man. I'll tell you when it's done."

After several painful prods, he finally relented and let me stand up.

"Your cast is mechanical, by the way," he remarked, and I saw that my arm was indeed covered by metal. But unlike any metal I'd ever seen, it twisted and moved like any other ordinary arm.

He helped me up. "Can you walk? The name's Forge, by the way."

"Yeah. It's not my leg that's in a cast. My name is Ladon. Ladon McKinley"

Nevertheless, I needed his support to make it all the way. As we walked through the long hallways, we discussed our various experiences with technology, and by the time we reached our destination, we were fast friends.

But our destination stopped the conversation cold.

We were in a massive auditorium, one of the largest rooms I had ever been inside. Over three hundred people were scattered around the benches, including Silvertongue, who waved eagerly at me from the front row. In front of them was a massive stage, empty except for a large throne, ornamented with gold leaf and plush red seating.

Forge grabbed me by the shouldersd and turned me to face him. "Look. I have to pop the question here."

"What?"

"Do you want to join the Madison Clan or not?"

I took a moment to consider it. "Do I… get to try it out first?"

"Nope. Clan law. You have one opportunity. Don't waste it, man."

"Alright then, yes. Where else can I go?"

"Are you over seventeen?"

What a weird question. "Seventeen what?"

"Years old. What else would I be talking about?"

"I don't know for certain. It's not like Proles keep track of their ages. But I believe so."

"Excellent. Now, come on."

I followed Forge up onto the stage, and watched him as he sat down on the throne. When he spoke, his voice was louder and more commanding than it had been before.

"I am Samuel Woqini, called Forge, engineer and leader of the Madison Clan. Before me stands Ladon McKinley, a young man and Exman of the City of Northbrook. He stands for induction into our proud Clan's ranks."

The crowd muttered a bit, but most of them simply nodded their heads. Many of them had been expecting this.

"Normally, I would present the merits and disadvantages for the Clan to evaluate," he said, his chair growing mechanical legs and approaching me from behind, "but I believe everyone here is familiar with the circumstances of his escape from the City and his rescue of Argentina Linguiston, called Silvertongue." He placed his hands on my shoulders, and then raised them back up.

"In front of this Clan Council, I give Ladon McKinley my approval." He placed his hands on my shoulders.

"All those in favor of inducting Ladon McKinley into the Clan, say Aye!"

There was a chorus of ayes.

"All those in favor of rejecting Ladon McKinley into the Clan, say Nay!"

There was silence.

"Such a close deadlock! I think we'll have to take a recount!" There was some laughter from the stands.

"I think the answer is obvious here. Ladon McKinley, welcome to the Madison Clan!"

Everyone in the room cheered. I started to move away, but Forge's hand stayed on my shoulder, his arm extending across the short distance.

"Dude, wait. You said you were over seventeen, right?"

"I think so."

"Then it's time for your Right of Passage."

Forge turned me around to face him.

"Flex your fingers."

I flexed my left hand.

"That's not quite what I meant. Move the fingers on your right hand."

I did, and I jumped at the noise.

The end of my right arm, previously a metallic bulb that I had assumed contained my hand, had unfolded into five long mechanical fingers. I stared at them with shock and wonder

"I'm old, Ladon. Really old. I was born 30 years before Apocalypse invaded, do you know that? That was over 500 years ago. You see, I'm an Exman, like you, and my power is over machinery; I'm a supergenius! So, as my body faded away, I was able to rebuild parts of it, until I was entirely made of metal. I offered my mechanical skill to every village I visited during my travels, but most of them shunned me. Even those who'd converted to the Faith of Xavier thought I was nothing more than a particularly intelligent mute."

Forge got off his throne and stepped towards me.

"And then I stumbled across the Madison Clan, and they took me in right then, no questions asked. I had a place to stay and a community to belong to, and in return, I built them everything I could imagine. This room around you, your new mechanical arm, the Clan Rover itself, is all my handiwork!"

He gestured proudly around the auditorium.

"But, over the many years that I've been part of this Clan, I've seen a lot of tragedy. Most Clan members don't die of old age, Ladon. They die in battle or due to battle wounds, or of sickness, or from radiation poisoning. You may have thought being a Prole in one of the Mississippian cities was bad, but at least it was reliably terrible. There is no such guarantee out here in the wastes."

Forge took me by the shoulders.

"Being a member of the Madison Clan means uncertainty of your future. It means living a life you will have much difficulty adapting to. It means taking on responsibilities that you think you cannot handle, and pulling them off with aplomb. Do you think you're ready for this?"

"Of course I am. Where else could I go?"

"Then it's done, kid. Welcome to the clan. Now, it's time to introduce you to the rest of the clan…

**END – CHAPTER 3**


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